Yours for the Night (28 page)

Raine took the thought back as soon as she thought it—Duane was just doing his job. By protecting the magazine’s computers, he was protecting her, too. And it wasn’t as though he wasn’t concerned about her, there just wasn’t much he could do.

They called the police from his office, on conference call, and the detective responded just as Jack said the police would—unless things got more serious, their hands were tied. She could go down to the station and file a report to formally document the incident, just for the sake of having it on record. They could send it on to Boston. She didn’t even know whom she was complaining about—she had an email address and that was about it.

Jack insisted on driving her to the police station, though she didn’t know why. He just seemed unwilling to leave her alone, which she thought was odd. He was brusque and businesslike, but she admitted to herself that his presence did help. She didn’t allow herself to think about the kiss in the office, and what it could have meant. But for one lovely moment she hadn’t been cold and afraid.

8

J
ACK
RETURNED
TO
Raine’s office after clearing up some matters before they could leave for the police station, and stood in the door for a second, watching her, fighting off the coil of protective feelings that he’d been struggling with all morning. She was sitting at her desk, her head in her hands. She didn’t move, she didn’t even look as if she was breathing. Her skin was porcelain, and he remembered its taste. He shook himself and tapped on the open door. She didn’t jump, but just looked at him, expressionless.

“Okay, I’m ready.” Her voice was quiet, smooth and calm. He wanted to hold her. But he didn’t.

“Let’s get some food first, you look like you could use something.”

“I’m fine, I just want to get this over with.”

“You’re white as a sheet, and you need to eat. We’ll just stop for something quick.” His tone of voice told her he had already decided for them both. She grabbed her coat and realized she wasn’t going to win this one, and besides, she was a little hungry.

When she picked up the flowers as she left the office, she got a curious look from him.

“I don’t want them,” she said, “so we can stop by the hospital on the way and leave them at the desk. They can keep them or give them to someone who will enjoy them.”

That annoying feeling itched at him again, the one that made him think maybe he was wrong about her. Or maybe it was a convenient rationalization so that he could be more comfortable with the fact that he wanted her in his bed. Again. Soon. But it still stung how she had turned on him the last time. No guy in his right mind set himself up for something like that twice.

As they drove off, her scent and the fragrance from the roses combined in the most erotic way possible, and he felt himself harden unexpectedly. Shifting in his seat, he adjusted his coat so that she wouldn’t notice. She wasn’t saying anything, and he felt the need to break the silence.

“Do you like Italian? There is a good little café-deli place down the block.”

“Anything is fine.”

More silence. He shifted in his seat again, staving off the image of her sprawled naked on a bed covered with rose petals. Hell, forget the rose petals.

“Are you okay?”

The rough concern in his voice made her look at him, and she was able, for the first time, to really appreciate what a gorgeous man he truly was. His profile was sharp, straight nose, full lips. Those intense eyes that seemed to pierce through everything were focused intently ahead on the road. For a moment, she forgot he had just spoken to her.

“Yes, I’m just a little…freaked out, I guess. I’ve never had anything like this happen.”

They pulled up next to the deli and parked. As they entered, Raine felt a shock of pleasure at the flood of warm colors and the spicy smells that had her lifting her hand to her stomach.

“Oh, I am hungry.”

“Let’s order and sit then. They are pretty quick here. Great soups.”

After ordering sandwiches and soup at the counter, they found a small booth in the back, and waited for their food with steaming cups of coffee. She wanted to talk about anything but work, so she tried her hand at small talk.

“Have you always lived in Salem?”

He shook his head. “No, I grew up in Connecticut.”

“Huh. Me, too. Where?”

He wanted to avoid this question for now—it would just open a can of worms when things were wormy enough. Instead, he sort of slid around it a little.

“My family owns an inn there. It was just my mom and dad and me.”

“No brothers or sisters?”

“Nope. They wanted to have more kids, but I think there were some problems, and they couldn’t. Didn’t matter, I never felt alone, I had people around me all the time, the guests at the inn, some of the part-time staff.”

“Didn’t you hate not having a regular home?”

He blinked, as if surprised by her question.

“I never really thought about it as not being a regular home. It was where I lived, it was comfortable, homey. My mom cooked all the food for guests, and there were never more than six or eight at a time. They seemed more like relatives, several people we came to know very well, since they came back each year. There was always work to do, but it was fun.”

“Where are your parents now?”

“Still there. I go home for holidays, talk to them all the time. I miss them, even though they are not too far away. They close the inn for half the year now and travel themselves. They’re good people.”

Stirring her coffee, she smiled slightly. “That sounds wonderful.”

“It is.” He phrased his next inquiry carefully. “Raine, speaking of families, do you think that this harassment could have something to do with your family?”

She glanced up sharply. “What do you mean?”

“Well, children of wealthy families are often targets for crimes like extortion and kidnapping.”

A chill set over the table.

“How would you know about my family’s money?”

Jack silently cursed his slip. He should come clean about knowing her when they were younger, but he couldn’t. Not yet.

“Someone at the magazine mentioned it. Your father is pretty well-known around New England. Lance Covington Industries seems to own half of Massachusetts and New Hampshire.”

She pushed her coffee to the side, and met his eyes squarely. “I am more or less estranged from my family—if you can call it that. It’s really only my father, and I haven’t seen him for years, since I left for college. I have never really thought of myself as attracting any negative attention because he’s wealthy. Most people probably don’t even know I exist.”

Jack watched her, saying nothing, and thought about that interesting little detail—she had said that her father was wealthy, but had not included herself in that definition. Yet surely she was heiress to her father’s fortune? She was the only child, after all. She must have money of her own, a trust fund, or something of that sort. He pushed a little more.

“I’m sure your father would want to know if you were being threatened. He might want to set up some security for you.”

At this she laughed out loud, though not happily. It was the first time he had ever seen any kind of hardness about her, though it changed quickly to a deep sense of sadness he could see reflected in her eyes and the tightness around her mouth.

“Hardly. If I was kidnapped, I am not sure he would see it as a smart investment to pay the ransom.”

Their food came, and as he dived into his, he watched her play with hers. He wanted to draw her out, to find out more.

“Did you have a falling-out?”

She bit her sandwich, and chewed slowly, waiting to answer, unsure about opening up to him but feeling irrationally compelled to do so. Somehow, she wanted him to know something about her, about who she was. Not Nilla, not the Raine he knew at work, but just her. Her voice was not much more than an edgy whisper.

“No, never that. Nothing as emotional as that. Though he was disappointed that I didn’t want to make more out of myself. We didn’t argue about it because he wasn’t paying for my education. I was on scholarship. So I did what I wanted. He didn’t see journalism and sociology as leading to much of anything. He would probably have approved if I owned the magazine rather than just writing for it.”

She sipped her soup. It was delicious, but her appetite had gone.

“I don’t want to give the wrong impression,” she said. “He’s not a tyrant or anything. He never hurt me or left me wanting for anything. He made sure I had all the things I needed, clothes, food, education.”

“Love?” It escaped his lips before he could stop himself, and he regretted it as soon as the word passed between them. She looked away, staring at her food.

“No. But a home. People to take care of me. A place to be, the things I needed. More than a lot of people have.”

“Children need more than things, Raine.” He thought of his own home and parents, the happiness they had together and had shared with him. They weren’t wealthy, but they had had what they needed materially, and more. He’d never been unhappy, or lonely, even though he had no brothers or sisters. The inn was busy most of the year, and there were always people around, but his mother and father always made him feel loved and valued. He couldn’t imagine what she must have grown up with. How could a child deal with that kind of coldness? He quieted his own thoughts, and focused on what she was saying to him.

“Well, it doesn’t always work out perfectly for everyone. But I shouldn’t complain. He was good to me, in his way. Better than he had to be.”

She continued in a matter-of-fact voice, “I mean, after all, I was adopted. So it’s not like I am his blood. I never got the whole story, he didn’t like to talk about it. But the staff talked, and every now and then I would pick up bits of information. Enough to know my situation. Apparently he and my mother couldn’t have children, and she insisted on having a family and they ended up adopting me.”

He nodded, sipping his soup, and let his silence encourage her to continue, at the same time he was kicking himself. He had terribly misjudged her.

“She left when I was about two. I don’t remember anything specific. He never said anything about her, why she did what she did. There were no pictures around.”

Jack was quiet, unsure of what to say. He was very uneasy about how he had treated her in the past. He realized he didn’t know her at all. But he wanted to.

Meeting her as Nilla had offered him some small glimmers into who Raine really was, and it had been enough to capture his interest, until his latent adolescent fantasies had gotten him off track. They were silent for several minutes, then Raine smiled, a little too brightly.

“So, that’s me. The poor little rich girl.”

“Don’t.” He reached out a hand to grasp hers, and was immediately shocked at the heat the simple touch produced, but he held on and kept his gaze on hers. “Don’t make light of it. That was a horrible way to grow up.”

She relaxed, and nodded at him. Pushing her food aside, she sounded resigned. “Yes. You’re right. But don’t feel sorry for me. I like my life.”

Her voice was stronger now, and she sighed. “Anyway, I wouldn’t ask my father for money for protection or for anything else. I make a nice living at the magazine, but not enough to afford something like personal security. I’ll just have to deal with the situation the way most people would, through the police, or on my own.”

Jack squeezed her hand again.

“Thanks for telling me, Raine.”

She just shrugged. After a moment, they stood and gathered their plates, setting them back on the counter, and headed back out into the cold. To the police station. Jack hoped that the stalking situation wouldn’t get worse; she had been through enough already. But whatever happened, he planned on being there.

* * *

D
URING
THE
AFTERNOON
, Jack got to know a very different side of Raine. At the hospital, she dropped off the roses and suggested that the nurses save a few for themselves at the nurses’ station, and split up the bouquet to bring a rose to patients who needed the lift. She had taken an ugly gesture and had turned it into a giving one. To say he was impressed seemed shallow; he was deeply moved.

On the way up the stairs of the police station, he found himself reaching to clasp her hand, enjoying the way it felt small but strong in his, and noted that she didn’t pull away. Anyone looking at them would have thought they had been together for years.

He glanced at her as they walked down the hallway, and she looked like a woman with a purpose, her stride strong, her eyes direct. She didn’t look frightened, and he added admiration to the list of new feelings he seemed to be quickly accumulating for this woman. At the main desk they asked for the detective they’d talked to on the phone, then took a seat, waiting for him to come down.

Raine looked around, feeling very much out of her element, but intrigued all the same. She had never been in a police station before. It looked pretty much like any office building, but had a different sense about it. There was something in the air; the weighty presence of authority, the stale smell of coffee, and a weird sort of tension.

Normally at this time of day she would be working on an article, wrapping up a meeting or tracking down research. But her life continued to veer far away from normal. She felt a draft of cold air wash by her, and watched two policewomen walk through the doors she and Jack had just entered.

They were average-looking women, but they had an aura of power around them. One was slight, with brown hair and ebony skin, and the other thin and muscular, with long, auburn hair pulled back tightly under a cop’s hat. The auburn-haired one glanced at Jack as they passed by, and Raine detected her glint of appreciation before they continued on and disappeared down the other end of the hallway on the other side of the desk.

The smaller woman had been wearing a wedding ring—married—would she have children? Raine made a mental note—this was her next article pitch. She wanted to know about these women, their personal and professional lives and relationships, how they made it all work. She wanted her readers to think about women who put themselves at risk daily to help others. Her mind turned to the nurses at the hospital—maybe she would broaden it out to writing about women in emergency services....

Her line of thought was cut short by a booming voice saying a hearty hello to yet another cop that was passing by, and she looked up to see a man walking toward them.

Raine felt a smile tilt up as he walked over and extended his hand. There was no way you could not smile at him. He was at least six feet tall, probably in his late forties, she thought absently. And he was like a huge…leprechaun. Not fat, but muscular and wide. His green eyes twinkled at hers, under a thick shock of hair that was a riotous mass of salt-and-pepper curls surrounding a full, friendly face. He was a handsome man and he sure filled up the room.

She eyed his gun and holster and felt as if she was in a movie. His huge hand wrapped around hers, squeezing in a friendly way; then he shook Jack’s hand as well, a little more firmly.